Pages torn from a hustler's journal: 3

Holding out for anyone else’s validation or approval is voluntary enslavement. Part of the first step in gaslighting is cutting a target down so that the victim ends up chasing the validation of the abuser. When that chase sequence isn’t activated, the abuser doubles down and continues forward, leveraging any means to secure compliance. For every act of compliance is ad hominem reduction in order to insert validation imbalance, albeit incongruently. The mechanism is simple enough that ignorant folk can repeat the pattern from their own childhood or from bratty knee jerk reactions. But on the flip side of the paradigm is the tool used in the dissolution of the entire validation ideology. That is, self-validation begins with extreme ownership. Autonomy begins with the self-reflection and the awareness that nothing outward is a reflection of the organism, the self, the whole. The degree of accountability the self takes determines the result and the validation given is self-respect earned, not bandied or taken. That cycle, of ownership-reflection-self-growth-self-validation eventually yields plateaus, walls of cognitive dissonance before peak growth, extinction moments. Demons excised, habits kicked return, temptation at the fringes. Extinction is interesting from a biological perspective. Habits and thought patterns are dropped and replaced. Time passes. Sequences of cerebral mapping are nearly defunct and faded from lack of use. Neural firing re-emerges, at random times, the swan song of dying cells. The phenotype of that encoded expression runs in heuristics. The system pops the cassette in and its just press play like back in the day. Never fucking mind the lack of a trigger. Coded expression is bigger than the streaming narrative of the individual. It’s in the return of demons and extinction moments that I realize how much change has occurred and the strata of applied growth from exercising walk-away on alllll those fucked up moments returning. Dark highlight reels, the last kick of the past can be embraced. That’s hard shadow work at first, but like a lot of shit that’s hard at first, if you don’t give up you can hold it in your palm later. The dark guardian, the one who remembers injustices, resists change to stay put, stay pat, the one who rises like a full moon in those moments, giving the tone and ambience for the entire night needs to be thanked. That archetype is passed down from the genes, allll the way back to the earliest traumas that ever occurred. That archetype is the response to threats and warns of repeats in the future. That archetype has its place. It isn’t in the driver’s seat, the throne, the quill. But part of internal counsel is round table balance of the schizophrenic orchestra, drawing from the wisdom of Future Self, the hard vision of Present and the historical spit of Past Self, along with the rogues gallery of sages and hustlers, leaders of industry and savagely successful men and women throughout history, mine and humanity’s. As though we were separate. Gestalt as the default, and the human stream is the result. In tune with the living dream, giving all within means, spitting sunbeams, running the sum and distilling it in sick sixteens, convictions explicitly strong enough to break open and stay within from dawn to dusk, so when thoughts turn to rust? Embrace that Dark Guardian and say “Hey man, good to trust. Thanks for your contribution.” Mission to bust. Just like seduction = first crack the crust. Rapture gush. Just like comedy captured: I just talk trash too much. #GetAfterIt, move like a Divine Actor, find the pieces that matter. Hungry for the details. Life’s victories will come just like how mom taught you to slice up history: Follow every funny tale through the money trail. Mind on the honey. Time alone runs me. Paradigm grungy. Finding what’s sunny? Cup of cheesey on that one. If you always read between the lines, then shit will always be funny. Shouldn’t be any secret how comedy nerds keep it runny.  
 
 
Whatever they’re doing in China right now they’ll do over here in 20 years. Ultimate social laboratory experiment, technology without restrictions. Fucking Stanley Milgram would be proud. How foul would it be to invest in China when I get my bills stacked, given that’s what American businesses already do, just like they did with Hitler during World War II. Social credit score is a keen way to control people’s behavior, and culture war is a keen way to tenderize the meat before the regulation is put in place. The artificial need can be created first. If it works over there, it’ll get introduced as a social tool for consideration. Frog in the pot pacing is how any regulation and prohibition gets introduced. Watching China and studying China from an economic and social standpoint is akin to studying the ways of ex-cons and disaster or fucked up horror story survivors. There’s wisdom gained in coming back from shitty odds, nuanced tools universal to the human condition that shines through, from survival to life recovery. It’s in the after-growth that I typically find the applicable lessons. Nobody wants to be a broken ex-con or life-crippled, but there are a handful of hard-road survivors who became really successful and found contentment. There’s hard lessons to their journey and filtering for those lessons, is the same curating process, the same tone as sorting through Chinese maneuvers and projecting into the future economic developments thereof. Savages know that information is currency, more than that they know how to levy that currency, how to distill and use it. The skill of investment in the mental catalogue is a constant labor of discipline. Who you become in 5 years largely depends on the information you feed yourself today. Striving to have a mind unrecognizable to my 1 year ago self, and making my gains while I still have this energy and passion, it helps to be motivated by those hungrier, more desperate, more willing to cut throats than me.  
 
When we re-write stories we re-tell the outcomes desires of sequences that can’t be changed. Sometimes they return, sometimes they run their course, but the act of re-visiting that story, whether in re-watching movies, keeping albums on daily rotation or the streaming narrative inside each of us, propels the expectation and fixes that whole paradigm. Returning to battle rap scene in a week and a half, and practicing discernment during freestyle drill, I continuously rip apart the stories I’m so used to telling myself or taking in. Preparing to have your world surgically evaluated bottom to top by doing it yourself first, ultimate red-teaming of your consciousness was supposed to be a preliminary state exercise, a chamber to enter during contemplation in order to prime my freestyle tone. I did not expect to find such a depth of rich veins in the many overlooked facets that emerge when I consider other sides to every story. There’s a whole ‘nother world, just next door. Come, let’s go see.
 
 
Next month is 2020. Go see GZA in concert when he comes to Seattle, see my sister and brother in law again, when they do the same, another rap battle to open the year with, at least 2 clients booked for the first week, specifically 2 I thought had fallen off, so good for the retention rate. Thank fucking probability New Year’s Eve is in the middle of the week, and Christmas is the same. Means not having to address not doing the holidays, not doing the week of the holidays with Cookie Dough or any fuckdoll or potential thereof. Clear communication is key, regardless of the relationship dynamic you have with anyone and all behavior is communication. It’s been a good year. It’s been a good fling. Trip, being honest enough to be able to acknowledge that. Fuck. Last month was 1 year with Cookie Dough. You weren’t supposed to fuck your corner woman, but the time was right. Both of you had what the other needed and neither was about to ask the other for more than they would already eagerly give. You expected a revolving door fling, you found the Goldilocks zone of flings. Prolly can’t convince a lot of the people you outgrew, as to just how healthy and uplifting the dynamic and arrangement is. Prolly a few ex’s who wouldn’t recognize you as happy as you are, but would indubitably be envious of the ease and bliss. Best fucking 1 year anniversary celebration, not even acknowledging it til a few hours after you left the next day. No card. Straight talk text. “Hey, thanks for a really chill year. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I reviewed the last year of my writing recently, and I’m better for having explored with you. All I asked of you was movement toward rapture; I found evolution in our chapter. You’re really cool like that. Thanks for the electric white space in my head last night and a fascinating talk this morning.” How many before have claimed they wanted a drama-free, open, flowing arrangement with someone they could fuck and still chill with, walk away without recourse. How many couldn’t handle that? You got so much pushback, 4 years back, when you finally dropped the serial monogamy bit, and decided to go all in, freebird, live your path, create your way, find the women who want what you want, move on from the ones who don’t. 4 years back you told everyone “Hey, so, after the last year on Tinder I realized that sometimes you can get a lot more intimacy out of your fuckdoll than you can out of your woman. If intimacy is defined by vulnerability exchanged with shared comfort, self-generated so it isn’t transactive? Then that transitive energy and trust comes in hook-up way fucking easier and faster. In other words, if I come into the situ, knowing full well that woman doesn’t need or want for me to love her? She just needs a technician who can play the human theremin? Then the judgment call is out the window and I can talk to her the way I would with a man I just rolled with on the mat. The exchange is from an equity place without judgment of biological roles either because even those needs are in fact the scaffolding of the entire fucking platform of that kind of interaction.” People got so fucking huffy when I said that. I took their arguments at face value, even though they were largely garbage on their face. I never let Loki out during those arguments. Just gave ‘em enough rope to hang themselves with, then distilled that dark insight into a simple equation: acceptance = intimacy. IOW: fuck the madonna whore complex. If you can crack the crust, you can see the truth. Intimacy is on the stage during freestyle or battle. Intimacy is in massage work. Intimacy is in my other work and the ability to convey technical skills thereof require the sharing of so many bridges. It’s been a ton of breakthroughs in 2019. Next month is another chapter.
 
Cantilevering away hard from victim shaming is how a wave of reprehensible and weak men have clothed that complacency and weakness as virtue.  
 
You’ll hear your truest self and learn to grasp infinity while wandering the contemplative valleys between the highs and lows of a high contrast life. Why daily meditation is important and learning can’t be rushed.
 
There’s a useful measure of autonomy and emotional agency when you can consistently not define yourself in terms of your sex partners combined mindspace. You’re free to pursue your own excellence and be defined there instead and share your happiness
 
Attempting to live in two worlds at once only ensures being lost or last in both.
 
I keep having that thought of “Damn I don’t wanna be this attracted to you.” Being attracted without being affected means leaning into the discomfort and accepting without feeling lack. If you can hold that energy, it’s powerful masculine centeredness. There’s an adaptable, tappable resource in meta-cog
 
The villain has to have a corresponding extra intimidating factor to stand apart from a regular monster. You can never write a villain that your everyday man can stomp the shit out of with Haagen daz stains still fresh on his jersey. The anthem is not “Who you gonna call? Fucking anybody, dude. Call Alexa. I’m busy.” When the Crimson Cardboard says “Jump!” Anyone else says “I’m busy.”
 
Somewhere out there is some Ugandan who’s only experience with Christmas music is what came with the other cultural artifacts in the food drop parachute that Live Aid sponsored. The t-shirts of all the losing Super Bowl teams, the MRE’s, cassette tapes of Milli Vanilli and of course Run-DMC’s Christmas. So somewhere out there, this guy thinks that Run DMC is the original singer of Christmas carols and the first time he hears jingle bells he’s gonna flip out. “That’s not how it goes! This isn’t bang your head on the ceiling music! This isn’t Christmas!”
 
There’s a whole sexy to beauty matrix that boils down to mate-able vs. relatable. Facial symmetry, righteous hip-to-waist ratio, exaggerated features of genetic viability  drives the biological hunger. Screams out “HOT!” To the DNA. Whereas a face that says “Kind, warm, provides, protects, listens, tender, teaches,” strikes the limbic brain as beautiful. Stay kind. More than just another fucking sollipsism. (Also, this is why the growing prevalence of Milfs and Gilfs taking a rising status in the sexual marketplace, being the walking blend)
 
Hey man, you can just go to agnostic Hell, where you’ll never be sure about your suffering. Me, I’m a firm believer in Gosh so I’m just going to Heck.
 
The inherently illicit nature of the invisible economy lends itself to the sexual component because of the barrier breaching social accessibility of parlaying off-road to the civil masquerade. Also, in ANY given field elegantly breaching the initial barriers to entry instantly sends a zahavian signal. This intersection to biology and business is instinctively known to hustlers world-round and informs the vernacular tone. Money has always spoken, and there’s always been some of us who just self-inform to learn that language.
 
We pair bond over universal human principles. Sex is about a net positive. Even if you don’t click and match passionately, you can still have a lovely conversation with someone new. That’s new layers and learning.
 
Self imposed chains of discipline yield the structure for turning pro. Sacrifice yourself to the constant improvement of your craft. You have to sacrifice your life for something.